"I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. He recognised this object at once. That's how I finally got wind of it. Lucy had just began to invoke a solace where John was concerned, doing her best to shelve him as not so special after all.
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